Hurt, Comfort, and Everything in Between
by QuincyMoxy
Summary: Mimi is killed, leaving all of the Bohemians shocked at the loss. Roger and Mark are particularly taking it hard. As the winter grows colder, and tension grows, how will they give eachother comfort? Slash, Rated T for: language, violence, and slash. R&R!


Mark stood at his camera, projecting small snippets of their life onto the wall. He unconciously winced as a clip of Mimi flashed up. She was smiling. He looked away. She was smiling the night before she died. God. Before she DIED.

_1.14.07: Eastern Standard Time: 11:48 p.m.: _

_Mimi skipped down the street humming a tune from the Cat Scratch Club. She didn't see the three men coming in from the alleyway. She didn't see anything but for the flash of a knife and a hand that clamped over her mouth as she was dragged into the alley. _

Mark turned away from the wall and counted to five. He turned back. Yes, it was now Collins. Collins drinking with Maureen. They were laughing. That must have been a while before... January 14th. Mark watched as Roger popped up into the film. He was sitting in the Loft, on the couch, strumming on his guitar. There wasn't a smile on his face, but the guitar wasn't dusty. That must have been a while before January 14th, as well.

_1.15.07: Eastern Standard Time: 6:13 a.m.:_

_A homeless man ducks into an alley to find shelter from the blustering wind. He stumbles over... a body. A girl. Her lower half is naked, blood, oh God, blood running down her legs and smeared over her stomach and face and covering her clothes and melted into the snow. His screams draw attention from the surrounding neighborhoods, and when two blonde heads poke out from an apartment and look down at the body... _

Mark licked his lips as another flashing clip of Mimi showed up. She was, oh God, now she was with Roger. Her hand is resting inside of his, and they look genuinely, actually, truly happy. She isn't sunken-eyed, or pale, or emaciated. He is smiling, one arm looped over her shoulders. Mark covers his mouth with his fist. Another flash. Maureen and Joanne. They looked... somewhat happy. Joanne seemed a bit peeved. Oh, God, but now Mimi was jumping into the shot from the side and wrapping her arms around both women. Mark swallowed.

_1.15.07: Eastern Standard Time: 6:20 a.m.:_

_A crowd has gathered at the opening of the alley, and they're all whispering to one another, covering their mouths, averting their eyes, sobbing, in shock, angry, sad, indifferent... But then, a young man bursts through the crowd opening and stumbles through the snow to the body. He gently touches it's shoulder and pulls it up into his lap. And he holds it close to him, rocking back and forth, blood staining his shirt and hands. His knees must be cold from the snow. He is barefoot. His feet must be cold. Another young man joins his side, standing and looking down at him. Their are no tears on his face, but you can tell he wants to cry. Minutes pass. The authorities arrive. The standing man places his hand on the other's shoulder. The body is dragged from his hands. The ambulance drives away. Only now, the standing man kneels next to the other. He gently wraps his arms around the other and holds him while he sobs. There is no crowd. Only blood in the snow and two men kneeling together._

Mark shuddered and closed his eyes. There was too much Mimi everywhere. Her apartment right below them. There was still blood on the pavement below them. From that attack, two weeks ago. Her purse, never remember, still lay on the window seat. From when she'd left it there and never remembered to take it back. Her smell lingered on Roger. From all of those hugs and kisses, and it'd never wash off, not in a million years. Mimi. Mimi. Mimi.

Mark opened his eyes. God, there she was again. This time, she was giving a homeless man a drink from her coffee. She was smiling and making small talk. He was laughing. Mark sat down and dropped his head into his hands. Mimi. He could feel the tears boiling inside of him. Mimi. His throat and nostrils constricted as a shaky breath pulled itself from his body. He didn't hear Roger coming up from behind him. He just felt a hand on his shoulder, smelled Mimi's perfume, and heard a tearful sniffle. They looked up from their spot on the floor. Mimi. A close-up of her face, beautiful and happy. Roger choked out a sob, and Mark gently sniffed. Mimi. Mimi.

Roger pulled Mark against him, their chests meeting as they looped arms around eachother's backs. Mark was more gentle, while Roger clutched at the other's shirt and dragged them together roughly. And, as Mark stole one last glance at Mimi's face up on the wall, he could imagine her laugh, and hear it as well.

Mimi.


End file.
